Katherine Howard & Thomas Culpepper
by Kalissimo
Summary: The story of Katherine Howard and Thomas Culpepper
1. Chapter 1

**_My fictionalized version of the first meeting between Katherine Howard and her famous lover, Thomas Culpepper. _**_This extract is taken from a novel I am currently writing on Katherine Howard, the fifth and often most neglected of Henry VIII's queens. Not much is known about Katherine's life in comparison with the five other queens, simply because her life and reign were so short and her impact on history was very little. However, her story's importance should not be forgotten - She was a young girl, pushed into a role that no-one in her life had prepared her for, and her tragic end should not be taken light-heartedly. Her story will be told from both Katherine's and Thomas Culpepper's point of view. This scene is told from Thomas' point of view, and takes place when Katherine is a still a maid to Queen Anne and newly come to court. The King has not yet seen her, and as of yet, Thomas and Katherine are unknown to each other. This meeting between the two will change the courses of their lives forever, and ultimately lead them to their untimely fate. I hope you enjoy! :)_

**Thomas**

This evening the King is holding a masquerade to celebrate the coming of May. It seems as though he is in high spirits again despite still being tied to Queen Anne and a great feast has been laid out in the banqueting hall.

Upon the largest table set before the King is what appears to be a miniature garden, though I am not sure miniature is the correct word since it takes up almost the entire table! It is a scene from Eden supposedly; The table itself has been hollowed out to accommodate the fresh grass used to fill its centre, and growing from the earth are trees half the height of a man with trunks of gold, fashioned to look like real bark. The trunks split off into smaller branches and then into twigs, each adorned with a handful of delicate silver leaves, the detail so intricate that even veins and little stems could be seen. Each nest of leaves had their own collection of fruit; apples, strawberries, pomegranates and figs were all to be found on the same branch, and all were painted silver like the leaves. The King gave a great gasp of surprise when, after being offered a silver strawberry, he bit into it to find the inside quite juicy and red, and declared that nowhere in the taste was a trace of silver paint!

Amongst the trees were the birds, not live of course, but sculpted from the most beautiful parts of the most beautiful birds; the swan's majestic head with its long and slender neck, and its white feathered wings too. The body was the iridescent blue of peacock's and the tail was from this same bird; fanned and dazzlingly coloured, glimmering in the evening light like something divine. Three wild boars nestled together underneath one golden tree as if asleep in the midday sun, and the goddess Aprhodite presided over a white marble fountain, which itself overflowed forming a river, wine-dark, and lasting the length of the table. It was a marvellous sight.

The King was pleased. He sat at the head of the table raised above the rest of us and smiling widely; a glittering figure in purple and gold cloth. I realised looking at him then that no matter how much affection he dealt to me, I would always be here in my place and he would always be far away in his - the two could never cross. Closeness to this King is only an illusion, a trick of the eye. Sometimes it is easy to be fooled into thinking that your circumstances may be different; when he calls you his favourite of all young men you see the genuine affection in his eyes, the companionship that he so craves - especially this late in his life - and you begin to think that, like you, he is just a man - rich and powerful - but just a man. However, sitting here at a table like this, _his _table, in his palace, with his wealth and luxury dripping from him like honey, you could forget that you and he ever shared companionable thoughts together, for how would a companionship go between a King such as him and a man such as I?

The King rises up, and the lively hall is suddenly silent as the night outside. "My ladies and gentlemen, you are welcome!" he announces in a voice laden with wine and pleasure, "We must now make room for our young dancers!" He claps his huge hands together and the sharp sound echoes throughout the great hall. The servants busy themselves with removing tables and chairs to empty the floor and I realise that I only have a small amount of time to collect my mask and arrange my disguise. "I regret that tonight I shall not dance..." the King continues, and as expected, his crowd sounds their outcry of disappointment. He gives a happy chuckle at their reaction and raises his hands as if in protest "I am long past my dancing days!" his laughter booms about the room as he sits down and claps his hands once again for the entertainment to begin.

The dance has been well choreographed, of course, and we each of us know the steps very well, but the excitement still remains since our partners are a mystery. Not only is tonight's event a masque, but this first dance is an opportunity to introduce the new ladies of the queen's service who have recently arrived at court.

The fire was doused by order of the King since the room had grown too hot, and all that was left were a few candles lighting the length of the silent hall. We gentlemen formed a line straight down the middle all dressed similarly in black cloth, so that we almost disappeared into the darkness cloaking the room; our identities shielded from the crowd by our decorated masks. The ladies filed in to partner us, masked the same as we, so that only lips and eyes, shining in the candlelight from beneath our painted faces, were revealed.

As expected, a girl stops in front of me. She keeps her head bowed shyly so that I cannot glimpse either her eyes or her lips...All I can see is her lovely hair; fine like pale silk and braided beneath her hood. So entranced am I by its appearance that I almost reach out to touch it, but stop myself just in time.

Willing my brain to concentrate on something else, I let my eyes settle on the rest of her figure that is available to me; pale skin smooth as butter, her body is slender, that of a girl's verging on womanhood, encased like some cocooned butterfly inside a long dove-white gown. She fairly shines, jewel-like, with a light of her own in this darkened room. Only at the last moment before our palms touch does she raise her eyes to mine, and I find that they have the richness of honey; so dark and delicious compared to her pale hair that I could willingly drown in them.

She smells like sunlight, warm and bright. Her touch burns my skin. Since she first laid eyes on me her stare does not waver from mine. I find her strangely bold considering her earlier shyness, yet inquisitive also. Without thinking, I am staring at her in the same way, willing my eyes to look away but finding no strength or real desire to do so. I feel as though I could look at her eyes and nothing else for the rest of my life; those alluring eyes, rich as amber...and her lovely hair, which almost begs to be caressed.

The dance is over before I know it, and too soon her honeyed gaze and lovely hair are gone from my sight. Rather than face being partnered with someone other than she, I excuse myself from the next dance and lean myself against a corner – the only place in this vastly occupied hall where one can hope to be alone - and feel the cool sweat trickle down my back; the hot skin from my palm still smarting from where it met hers.

I cast my eyes once more over to the floor where she is now partnered with a young knight, and I find myself incensed with a peculiar jealousy that he may look on her as I just did, and be as close to her as I just was. A serving boy whistles past me with a dozen heavy and dirty plates in his arms and I fairly grab him by the cuff without a thought or care; the plates almost clatter to the floor but for his steady hand. "Who is that Lady?" I whisper, pulling his ear close so as not to be heard, still entranced by her figure moving slowly and gracefully in the candlelight. The servant turns to spy for himself and I know that I need not clarify which lady I am talking about because she shines above all others. "Lady Katherine Howard, Sir." The servant stutters, clearly struggling under the load he is carrying. I release him from my grasp and he hurries away without another word.

"Katherine..." I tested her name on my lips, and found it sweeter than honey...


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: ** The last extract (Chapter 1) was written from Thomas Culpepper's point of view. As I explained, my novel is written from Katherine's point of view also. This extract (chapter 2) is written in Katherine's voice.

This part of the story comes after Katherine and Thomas have been arrested for adultery. For those of you who do not know the story: After Katherine is arrested, she is taken from her Queen's lodgings at Hampton Court Palace to Syon Abbey, where she resides quietly for a few months. Then suddenly after her trial – which she was not permitted to attend – she is taken from Syon Abbey on the morning of the 10th February 1542 and placed on a barge that would take her by river to the Tower of London. It would be the last time she would see the outside world: There, three days later, she would die aged 17 by beheading at the King's command.

This extract tells of the moment Henry's guards came to take her from Syon Abbey to the Tower.

**Katherine**

They come for me before dawn.

I am sleeping; so tired was I the night before that I have fallen asleep fully clothed, and now my corset digs into my ribs uncomfortably. Sleepily I shift about, trying to find comfort when suddenly the sound of footsteps – many heavy footsteps – startles me into a wakefulness filled with dread. I sit up in my bed, suddenly alert, my heart hammering inside my chest. I hardly dare to breathe as I listen to their approach. _Please don't come for me. Please don't come for me._ I shut my eyes tight, whispering my prayer aloud: "_Please don't come for me...Please don't come for me...Dear God, please don't let them come for me!_"

The footsteps come closer. I can tell from the regimented beat that they belong to the guard. _Dear God...Please! _I scramble back across my bed and press my back to the wall, hoping against hope that they will pass on by my door. The soles of their boots slap the stone slabs in terrifying unison: _Slap. Slap. Slap. Closer. Closer. Closer. _

I want to be a spider, or a fly or an ant. I want to press myself into the walls of Syon Abbey and disappear as though I had never been. All these thoughts whir inside my head as I feel the cold sweat trickle down the small of my back underneath my gown. Still the footsteps come closer.

Then suddenly, the terrifying sound stops just outside my door. Then there is no sound. The silence is eerie. Timidly, I open my eyes. In front of me, the heavy oak door to my chamber remains mercifully shut. I study the black iron bolts and the thick wooden panels. _You are strong. Do not let them in. Do not let them in. _I stare at it hard, my eyes thin slits, and repeat my command: _Do not let them in! Do not let them in!_

Next, I hear hushed voices outside, then quite suddenly, the door is flung wide and the towering figure of the Duke of Suffolk appears in its place. Together with two of the King's guard backing him, they block out the light from the doorway to my chamber. _No..._

"Lady Katheryn, you must come." Suffolk addresses me in a gruff voice and I shrink backwards. "Where!" My voice leaves my throat in a strangled gasp. The guards come to stand either side of him as if expecting trouble. I feel all too much like a trapped animal and I press my back further into the wall, finding dismay when I can retreat no further. "Come." He commands again in that terrifying tone, and I find that suddenly I am crying. "Please!" I say, shaking my head, "Please!" but the guard come towards me and haul me from my bed. "_No!_" I scream, "_Please! Please do not take me!_" Suffolk shouts at the guards to hold me steady and they struggle whilst I kick and scream for them to let me go."Please! Please!"

Suddenly, I find my footing and kick one of the guards in the groin with my heel as hard as I can and he yelps in pain, releasing his strong hold on my arm. I take my chance and spinning, I wrench my other arm away from the second guard who is not prepared for my strength. "_Seize her!_" Suffolk commands over the din, and though I am free for a moment the guards a upon me once again before I can run. "_No! You cannot take me! You cannot take me!_" I scream and fight as much as I can manage, struggling violently against their hold on me but they are strong and I am but a girl in the hands of men. _But I will not go without a fight!_

One of the guards foolishly places a hand on my shoulder to steady me, and I whip my neck round to bite him, feeling the soft flesh yield as I sink my teeth into him. He screams and instinctively slaps my face hard so that I loose go of his hand. My head snaps back from the shock of it, my senses reeling, and for a second both guards and Suffolk stand there open mouthed, unsure of what to do next.

Shaking my head, I regain my composure. I do not hesitate. Adrenaline burns within me; I am driven only by my instinct to survive. I look past them to the door, and before they can stop me I have run past them and into the hall, screaming. "_Help me! Help me! They have come for me, help me!" _But the guards are quick, and soon they are upon me once more. "_No_!" I scream for all I am worth. I scream until there is no breath left inside my lungs and then I scream some more.

They haul me up as if I am a sack of nothing and carry my protesting body hurriedly down the halls of Syon Abbey and out into the open air, trying to gag me as they do. "No!" My eyes widen in terror as I see they are to put me on a river barge that will take me to the Tower. The blood rushes through my body, my muscles ache with the strain of struggling, but still I fight, I _have_ to fight.

I feel as though I am on fire, I struggle as though I am a girl alight with flames. The noise is deafening and I realise it is my screaming and the shouts of the guards that are disturbing the quiet of the dark sleepy morning. "Release me! I am the Queen of England...Release me I say!" But my cries fall on deaf ears. "Please!" My muscles finally give in; I am exhausted and I cannot struggle any longer. "_Please..._" I cry brokenly, but my cries are ignored as they bundle me into the barge to take me to the Tower of London.


	3. Chapter 3

**Katherine**

It is quiet now. The barge glides sombrely across the dark waters, and though I hear the river lapping gently at its wooden sides and smell the reedy scent of the Thames in the cold air I can hardly fathom where I am.

My eyes are wide and glazed: I see nothing. Even as the shadow of the Tower looms ahead of me all I see are indistinct shapes swimming in the landscape of my vision; the blur of unfallen tears. I do not want to see it. I do not want to recognise it. I do not want to see the white turrets of the Tower, like outstretched skeletal arms reaching into the greyness of the sky; I fear that if I do I will start to scream and scream again and never stop.

The sun is beginning to rise now, and as the crest of fiery gold spills over the bleak London horizon, the dark grey sky at once bleeds with crimson light and we all – myself and my jailers - are bathed in a red glow.

The barge suddenly slows to a stop. Above me, gaining solidarity in my blurry vision like a mirage, the white, crescent archway of Traitor's Gate curves gracefully like an open mouth ready to swallow me whole. As if in a dream, I lean out to touch it and my fingertips brush the icy-cold, roughness of what is to be my stone prison.

I look back over the river to London and now far away I see the smoke billowing from the chimneys and bake-houses. I hear the distant noises of the horses and carts beginning to make their way to the early morning market. I hear London beginning to wake-up and breathe life, I hear the beginnings of the new day, a day the same as any other day, and I realise that this is the first time I have stopped to appreciate it, and suddenly I am filled with a great sadness, as I know with certainty that this is the last time I will ever see it.

The black gates open; the sound is sharp and drawn out like the slow, scraping of glass, until they are wide open and beckoning me inside like a long lost friend. My body trembles and I fight the urge to run: where else could I run but into the muddy depths of the Thames? I feel my heartbeat quicken as the barge slowly moves between the gates. _This is my last chance to run. If I do not run now I will never leave this place alive..._The barge moves forward, but as I look around me for an escape all I see is swirling, brown water, and then, with a sickening thud Traitor's Gate locks shut behind me.

I'm in.


	4. Chapter 4

**(Section taken from mid-way through the novel.)**

Please do comment! I love reading them and I very much appreciate it, thank you. :)

**Thomas**

She has a new dog; one that the King has given her. She plays with it daily and it sits upon her lap like a child and licks and nips at her small fingers. It makes her smile. A beautiful, lively smile that lights her face like a thousand candles brought to flame at once. I would that I could receive that smile, that gay laugh from her. I would that I could be close enough to curl into her lap and breathe the scent of her wrist. She is mine in all my heart and yet she does not know it; and it breaks, and twists, and wrenches my heart into a thousand bloody pieces that she can _never_ know it.


End file.
